Weapon of Choice
by Lizabeth S. Tucker
Summary: An undercover assignment has consequences no one foresaw.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is for Susan B., the winner of my contribution to the Star for Brian auction. Hope I did her ideas justice. Be prepared for a rough ride._

Weapon of Choice

Written by Lizabeth S. Tucker

Story Ideas by Susan B.

1.

"I'm telling you now that I won't do it." Mark McCormick picked up the edger as he stalked across the lawn, leaving behind a group of men who wanted the impossible.

"Kid, this guy is bad news," Hardcastle called after him. "Lutrin needs to be taken off the street."

Mark grabbed the extension cord from the outside outlet and began rolling it up. "No argument there, but I'm not gonna be the one who does it. You said yourself that the last two people sent in undercover with this animal wound up dead. I don't care to make number three."

"Why are we arguing about this?" The black-suited FBI agent standing next to Hardcastle snapped. "You don't get to choose, McCormick. If you don't cooperate, I'll have the Judge pull your ticket and you'll be back inside before the day is over."

Lieutenant Frank Harper sucked in his breath, backing away from the federal agent.

Hardcastle frowned, turning his attention from the stubborn ex-con to Agent Collins. "The hell you will! If McCormick doesn't want to do this, he won't. I won't have you or anyone else trying to coerce him into this. So back off."

"Okay, okay, everybody just calm down. Let me talk to Mark for a few minutes. Alone." The last member of the group walked toward McCormick, jerking his head toward the Gatehouse.

Mark followed behind the short, stocky barrel of a man as he strode into the Gatehouse through the French doors. "Joe, I'm telling you that this is way out of my league. We're not talking some street punk here. This guy is a big time arms dealer."

"You said the same thing when the Soviets were messing around in the neighborhood and you handled that just fine," Joe Hayes said, his smile disappearing into his bushy mustache.1

Mark snorted as he threw himself down on the couch. "And what is the CIA's involvement?"

"It's a joint task due to ties inside and outside the United States. The two men who were killed, Jake Anderson and Mario DiNardo? Mario was one of ours, a friend of mine. Jake was Collins' former partner. He was married and had a baby girl born two days after his murder."

Mark's mouth twisted wryly. "You really know how to stick the knife in, don't ya?"

"Part of my charm, palsy." Joe became serious. "I think you can get the information we need, McCormick. You're probably the only one who can at this point."

"A daughter, huh?"

"Yeah, Mary Catherine Anderson."

"If I'm to do this, I'll need a decent cover. I can't go in as Mark McCormick. One phone call to check up on me would reveal my connection to Hardcastle. Once Lutrin found out, I'd be dead. From what this paperwork you've given me says, anyone in El Toro's organization is locked behind the compound doors for months at a time. That means no contact with anyone out here. And I won't be able to wear a wire either. That would get me killed immediately."

"I have no intentions of dealing with Hardcastle if that happens, so make sure you come out alive. Hear me?"

"I hear you."

"I'll not only get you a secure cover, we'll keep the details to a select few. I'm not losing another man." Joe's voice was firm and final.

After a few moments of consideration, a grim McCormick nodded. "I'm holding you to that, Joe. Okay, I'm in."

H&McC

"Where the hell is he?" Hardcastle growled, leaning close to the edge of the table where the radio speaker sat.

For Mark's last week behind the forbidding walls he had been wearing a wire passed to him by a female agent who posed as a prostitute for Vice. It was a calculated risk, but based on rumbles on the street, Lutrin was receiving a larger than usual gun shipment. Collins hoped to hear information on who had been behind the order.

"Calm down, Judge, your boy will be here when he's done with the job. He just has to get that last file from the compound and we'll be able to arrest the whole lot of Lutrin's gang." Collins glanced at his watch.

Joe paced the floor, equally worried about the man's safety. "I still think sending him back in was a mistake. We had what we needed for the arms case."

Collins was tired of going over the same ground. "We need those names. I know the CIA is focused on the international ties with terrorist factions, but the Bureau could stop some of the money going there from the drug trade if we could shut down that part of the operation."

"Quiet!"

Both federal agents turned to where Hardcastle sat hunched over the radio. The lines on the Judge's face were pronounced.

"What is it?" Joe asked.

"Something's wrong. I can hear it in the kid's voice. We need to move in now."

"Judge Hardcastle, don't overreact."

Joe stooped down next to Hardcastle and listened for himself. He heard the sound of a scuffle, then the radio ceased operation. "He's right, Mark is in trouble. We go in now."

H&McC

The raid was a success, taking Lutrin's men by complete surprise. Unfortunately there was no sign of the head man nor Mark. While the FBI started the laborious process of sorting out their prisoners, Joe Hayes and Judge Hardcastle began a frantic search for the missing men.

As they swept through the buildings, room by room, they came up empty. Soon there was only the garage and the stables left to search.

"Judge?" Joe nodded to the stable door, opened a crack, then to the garage.

Hardcastle looked from one building to the other. Would McCormick go to a horse stable when he could have grabbed a car instead? He saw Joe process the same question and start past the stables to head for the garage. The Agency man was halted by an iron grip on his wrist.

If asked, Hardcastle wouldn't be able to explain why he changed his mind, but suddenly he knew without a doubt that he would find both missing men inside the stables.

Hardcastle readied himself, tightening his grip on his pistol before he slipped through the door, followed by Joe. He could hear voices and smiled grimly. He inclined his head toward the tack room. As one they made their way between the stalls. Getting closer they could hear the specific words rather than just the tone.

"You betrayed me. I took you in off the streets and this is how you repay me? Stealing from me? What were you planning to do with that file? Sell it?"

They heard McCormick laugh before coughing uncontrollably. "You don't get it, Tomas, do you? I'm not like you. I'm not doing this for money."

"What else is there?"

Mark answered with staid calmness. "The public good. To save lives."

"The public? What has the public ever done for people like us? Spit on us, that's what, called us animals," Tomas said in a harsh voice. "I know you, we come from the same place. We've both had to make our own way, without any help from our so-called fathers. That wasn't a lie, I know it, I can feel it. No matter who you really are, that's a fact."

"Yeah, well, that might be true, but it doesn't matter where I came from. It's where I'm going. And what I do on the way there."

Hardcastle and Joe moved into position, one on each side of the tack room door. The Judge held up one finger, indicating that Lutrin was alone with McCormick.

"Maybe I'll never be anything but an ex-con, Tomas. But I can't be the cause of people's deaths. I won't let myself become what they think I am."

"Then you'll die, hero."

Hardcastle heard the click of a shotgun and dove through the door, shouting for Lutrin to drop his weapon. The arms merchant spun around and fired at Hardcastle, the scattered shot hitting Joe Hayes as he came through the door. Sharp stings told the Judge he was also struck by the pellets. He stumbled to the floor, blinking blood out of eyes, trying to focus on the dangerous man still standing in front of him.

Hardcastle heard McCormick scream his name and looked up to see the younger man throw himself at Lutrin. The two men grappled for control of the knife Lutrin pulled from his boot, having tossed the spent shotgun aside.

Taking a deep breath, Hardcastle pushed himself back to a standing position. He raised his .45 and fired a shot just over both men. "That's enough!"

The discharge of his weapon momentarily distracted McCormick, giving Lutrin the opportunity to try to stab the other man. Hardcastle's next bullet went through the fleshy part of the attacker's arm, causing him to drop the knife. One more punch from McCormick ended the fight.

Mark rolled over onto his back with a groan.

"McCormick?"

"Judge? You okay?" Mark carefully sat up, glancing across the room. He saw Hardcastle leaning over somebody else. "Who's that?"

"Joe. He caught some of the birdshot as well."

Mark got slowly to his feet, grabbing some rope from the wall hook nearby. He quickly tied up Lutrin's hands and feet. Once he was convinced the man was secure, he stumbled to Hardcastle's side.

"Hey, Mark," Joe said as he leaned against the door jamb. "Palsy, you look like shit."

Mark chuckled, holding his arm against his ribs. "You don't look that great yourself."

"Hayes? Hardcastle!" A shout came from outside the stables, startling McCormick who spun about and dropped to one knee.

"Easy, kid, it's just Collins." Hardcastle was beginning to realize just how much of a strain the last three months of undercover work had been on McCormick. "In here!"

Collins came barreling into the stables, accompanied by two black clad men carrying heavy assault weapons. Large white letters proclaiming their federal agency affiliations were visible on their bullet-proof vests.

"What happened?" Collins stopped in the doorway, his moss green eyes surveying the occupants of the room. "Who shot you, Hayes?"

Joe was helped to his feet by Hardcastle and McCormick. "Don't know. I walked in and, bam, I feel like a hundred bees are stinging me in the face and neck."

"It was Lutrin," Hardcastle said. "Luckily it was just bird shot. Gonna hurt like the dickens when it's plucked out of you, but you won't die from it." He wiped the blood off his own forehead, wincing at the sting.

"I wasn't in any danger from it?" McCormick asked chagrined.

"No, you would've been dead if he'd shot you from as close as he was. It was just that we were farther away that saved us. Of course, could've put out an eye if it hit the right place."

Mark quickly checked Joe visually, reassured that none of his injuries appeared serious. He watched Collins take charge of Lutrin, feeling strangely detached. More black-clad men arrived, their passage barely noted. Weariness enveloped Mark as he tried to help the Judge.

"McCormick? Hey, kid." Hardcastle grabbed Mark by his forearms, dragging him to a nearby crate. "Siddown. C'mon, kiddo, park it here. Everything is under control. Take a load off."

"Judge?" Mark's usually lively blue eyes were dull and unfocused.

"Yeah, McCormick?"

"I'm sorry…I can't seem to…" he slurred before his eyes rolled up and his body began to fall to the side.

"Whoa, hold on." Hardcastle grabbed the younger man before he slid boneless to the floor. "I need some help here!"


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Hardcastle hated hospitals, whether he was a visitor or a patient. He stared at the door separating the waiting room from where McCormick had been taken. He waited alone. The various police agencies were still scouring Tomas Lutrin's compound for evidence of El Toro's criminal activities. Only Joe Hayes was at the hospital, getting treated for his own injuries.

Touching his own face lightly, Hardcastle knew how much the removal of the bird shot pellets would hurt, even with a local anesthesia being used. He sat in lonely silence, continuing with his vigil.

"Milt? What are you doing here?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Hardcastle turned. "Charley!"

"What did you do now, Milt? And where's Mark?" Doctor Charles Friedman was a good friend as well as the Hardcastle family physician. He had patched up both men more times than anyone cared to think about.

With a jerk of his chin, Hardcastle indicated the emergency examination rooms. "In there."

"What's wrong with him? And you didn't answer me as to what happened to you."

Hardcastle quickly explained his own injuries. "As to McCormick, I don't know. He collapsed at the scene. They won't tell me anything."

"Let me see what I can find out. Wait here."

Hardcastle grimaced at his old friend, but didn't ask where Charley thought he would go, too grateful for the help. He tried to relax, picking up a six-month-old copy of _People _magazine and flipping through the tattered pages. Tossing it back down onto the table, he turned his attention back to the doors barring him from McCormick.

"Judge Hardcastle?" A blue-clad nurse appeared beside him.

"Yes, I'm Hardcastle."

"There's a phone call for you at the nurses' station."

Checking the distance from the doors as well as his line of sight, Hardcastle rose to his feet and followed the young woman to a white phone.

"Hardcastle," he barked into the receiver.

"Milt? How's Mark?" Frank Harper's voice could barely be heard due to a rumble of noise in the background.

"I don't know yet. What's all that racket?"

"The press. Collins notified them of his successful undercover operation. He's showing off the weapons found on site."

"_His_ undercover operation?"

"He barely mentions the other agencies involved, much less that a civilian was the one undercover. He's taking all the credit."

"Collins can have it. But will he be able to guarantee that Lutrin and his men are kept behind bars until the trial?" Hardcastle asked, worried about McCormick's safety.

A heavy sigh came over the phone line. "Lutrin is a flight risk with a record as long as both our arms combined, so with any luck he'll be held without bail."

"I hear a but?"

"I sincerely doubt if all of the others will be. You might consider going away until the trial, Milt. I know you don't like to give the appearance of running, but it might be safer for everyone concerned in this case."

"I'll consider it." Hardcastle saw Dr. Friedman come out into the waiting area. "Look, I've got to go."

"Call me when you find out about Mark."

"I will." Hardcastle hung up. He moved closer to the waiting doctor, his head thrust forward. "Well?"

"Mark has some severe bruising on his torso as well as two fractured ribs. He's also beyond exhaustion and somewhat dehydrated."

"So he's okay?" Hardcastle cut to the most important point.

"He should be, if…" Friedman glared at his old friend.

"If what?"

"If he's allowed to rest and recover. I mean it, Milt. He won't tell me what he's been up to, but I know you. Whatever it was had to be dangerous."

Realizing that nothing would be served by keeping it a secret, Hardcastle explained. "McCormick was deep undercover for months, doing a job for the FBI. Watch the news tonight and you'll probably hear all about it, although I doubt that his name will be mentioned. It was definitely dangerous."

"And once it was over, Mark collapsed?"

"Yeah. Scared the crap out of me," Hardcastle admitted.

"Good, I'm glad."

"What?"

"I'm glad you were scared. Are you trying to get Mark killed? When will you remember that he isn't a cop?"

"C'mon, Charley, he agreed to this. The kid knew it was important and he damn well knew it was dangerous."

"And Mark would do anything to avoid disappointing you. You take unfair advantage of that admiration and respect. Someday it will blow up in your face and Mark will be one of the casualties."

Hardcastle clamped his jaw tight, managing to reply through stiff lips. "He has a strong sense of self-preservation."

"He'd have to, living with you. But that sense seems to lose out when it comes up against his admiration for you." Seeing how uncomfortable the conversation was making Hardcastle, Friedman decided he had made his point and moved on. "According to Dr. Caulfield, the attending physician, you should be able to take Mark home in a couple of hours. He's hooked up to an IV to replenish his fluids right now."

"Good, good." Hardcastle relaxed, his face creased into a sudden smile. If McCormick was being released that quickly, his condition wasn't life-threatening.

"Rest, Milt, he needs to recoup his strength. No undercover assignments, no high speed chases, no excitement of any kind. It wouldn't take much for him to have a complete collapse. He needs to sleep, to take it easy, to eat. Did you know that he has lost twenty pounds since he was last in my office?"

Hardcastle shook his head, shocked. "I didn't know. I only saw him for a few minutes after the raid."

"I'm depending on you to fix this, Milt. Otherwise I'll convince Caulfield to check Mark into the hospital until I'm happy with his condition."

"No, you don't have to do that. I'll take care of him."

"See that you do. And I want to see him in my office next week."

H&McC

Hardcastle helped push McCormick's wheelchair out to the waiting pickup truck. Although released from the hospital, it was obvious that the younger man was still exhausted, his face pale and pinched.

"Okay, kiddo, nice and easy." Hardcastle set the wheelchair's brakes before helping McCormick into the passenger seat. He thanked the nursing aide who had accompanied them outside before walking around the front of the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel.

"Where to now, Kemosabe?" McCormick asked before yawning.

"Home."

"Don't I have to give a statement?"

"Probably, but not today. We'll pick up your prescriptions, then you're going home to bed."

"'kay."

That lack of argument told Hardcastle just how exhausted McCormick actually was. Glancing over to his right, he saw Mark leaning against the door, sound asleep with his mouth hanging open. Keeping the radio low, Hardcastle continued with his planned errands.

Back at Gull's-Way, he guided a compliant McCormick into the main house and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Getting a glass of water from the bathroom, Hardcastle doled out the medicine. Once the pills were swallowed, he gently pushed McCormick back onto the pillows. He covered the already sleeping man with a light blanket and left the room.

Downstairs in the den, the Judge called Harper to let him know about Mark.

"So he's going to be okay?" the lieutenant asked.

"With some sleep and good food, he should be. What's going on with Lutrin?"

"Judge Reynolds agreed to hold over Lutrin and three of his top four associates without bond."

"But not everyone?"

"As much as he wanted to, Reynolds couldn't do that. Word is already out, however, that there is a contract on Mark, you and Joe."

"Us particularly?"

"Yeah, thanks to Agent Collins. Seems like you three are the reason that Lutrin is facing charges of attempted murder of a federal agent. That isn't setting well with some of Lutrin's customers. Brings too much heat."

"Does Lutrin know our names? Mark was working as Mark MacElroy, not Mark McCormick. And Joe and I weren't even there until the last minute."

"I don't know who told 'em, but he definitely knows."

"Great."

"Ready for more good news?"

"Not really, but go on."

"It seems that Lutrin's men are supporting his claim that he didn't know about the weapons, that they kept them a secret from him. There is no direct evidence to connect Lutrin with anything except the shooting of a federal agent. And that depends on what you and Mark saw. Lutrin is claiming that Mark had the shotgun and it was he who shot at you and Joe."

"What? The kid didn't shoot us!"

"Milt, they're printing the shotgun. If Mark handled it at all, we need to know the how and why. Did he take the weapon away from Lutrin?"

"No, once both shells were used, Lutrin tossed the shotgun away and pulled a knife. But I can't say that Mark didn't touch it earlier than that. I can say that he wasn't the one who fired on us."

"Good. That means that your testimony is key to getting Tomas Lutrin tied into all of this. Collins wants you and Mark in here immediately to get your statements."

"No. The kid really needs to rest. Nobody is getting near him until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. And if Collins wants our official signed statements, he comes out here for them."

Harper chuckled. "He won't like that."

"Tough." Hardcastle leaned back in his chair, spinning around to gaze out into the afternoon light. "Mark is in no condition to deal with Collins, not yet."

"I thought you said that he was okay." Frank's voice showed his concern. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Charley Friedman read me the riot act. McCormick is on the edge of collapse. He's also lost too much weight. I'm under orders to keep him resting, eating and calm. That means no confrontations at the police station with a special agent whose only concern is his own glory."

"Now, Milt, I don't like Bill Collins either, but he has had a lot of failures in trying to put Lutrin behind bars and break up his operation. You should know just how frustrating that can get."

"Maybe, maybe. But if he hassles the kid…"

"You'll take him out. Don't worry about anything, Milt. I'll let Collins know that Mark is under a doctor's orders. I'll give you a call before we come out tomorrow afternoon. We also need to set up some protection for you two." Trying to head off the usual protests, Harper continued. "It's either guards outside the gate or you two go into protective custody. And that certainly won't help Mark relax, will it?"

Hardcastle grumbled, but finally agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Mark slept until early in the evening. When he stumbled down the stairs, his eyes were still ringed with black circles. "Hey, Judge."

"How are you feeling?" Hardcastle asked, handing the other man a glass of water.

"Thanks." Mark downed half of the glass before coming up for air. "Boy, that may be the best drink in the house."

"Here are your pills."

Mark peered at the three pills held in the callused hand, scowling. "What are they?"

"What your doctor ordered, so take 'em. And you didn't answer my question."

Grumbling, he took his medicine, finishing off the water. "I'm okay. A little groggy, but okay."

Hardcastle nodded, not having missed how carefully McCormick moved. "Hungry?"

Mark's face brightened at the mention of food. "Yeah, I am. Pizza? Steak?"

"Too heavy for someone who hasn't been eating much in the last three months. I have some homemade chicken noodle soup and I'll make you some grilled cheese sandwiches as well if you want any."

"Homemade?"

"Yep, to Sarah's recipe."

"Oh, great." Mark's expressive face changed and became almost somber. "I really miss her, Judge."

"I know, kiddo, so do I. When this is all over with, why don't we drive up and visit her?" Hardcastle gently guided his young friend into the kitchen.

"Could we? That would be terrific." He broke into a wide, open smile as he gingerly sat down at the kitchen table.

Hardcastle ladled out two bowls of soup before slathering butter on four slices of bread, slipping cheese slices in-between and putting them on an old waffle grill with the patterned insert removed.

"This is good, Hardcase, thanks." Mark eagerly spooned the hot soup into his empty stomach. "Sit down and eat."

Hardcastle checked the sandwiches. Seeing that the bread was golden brown, he removed the sandwiches with a spatula and placed them on two small plates. He laid them on the table, finally taking a seat.

Mark blew on the sandwich before taking a bite, but still found himself gasping as his mouth closed around hot cheese. "Oh, oh, oh, 'ot!"

Hardcastle laughed for the first time in three months. He handed McCormick his glass of cold milk. "Here, hotshot, put the fire out."

After another bowl of soup, Mark felt almost uncomfortably full. "That was the absolutely best."

"Want another sandwich?" Hardcastle asked with a wave toward the waiting bread and cheese.

"God, no, I couldn't eat another bite." Mark yawned, trying to smother it.

"Ready to go back to bed?" Hardcastle asked, already knowing the answer.

"No more sleep, not now. I'll go up later. If I sleep too much, I'll get a headache."

"Fair enough. Go get comfortable in the den, see if you can find something to watch on television. I'll load the dishwasher and join you in a few minutes."

"You want some help?"

Hardcastle shook his head. "Nah, I've got it. Go on."

"Okay," Mark said, yawning again.

By the time Hardcastle made it to the den, McCormick was sound asleep on the couch. The Judge's face softened, an affectionate smile curving his lips as he tossed a throw over the insensible man. Hardcastle took his chair, turning his attention to the old movie flickering on the television set. "You're missing a good one, kiddo," he said softly. "Cary Grant and Grace Kelly."

H&McC

Mark woke slowly, blinking in the sunlight flowing across the bed. He frowned, trying to determine how he had gotten upstairs. The last thing he remembered was sprawling on the couch in the den. Searching his memory, he vaguely recalled the Judge trying to make him go to bed. _Guess he convinced me to move._

He pushed himself to a standing position, stretching slowly until he hissed at the pull in his side. He still felt tired, but wasn't in the mood to sleep any longer. He was hungry as well. Glancing at his watch, Mark realized that it was past nine o'clock. He was surprised that Hardcastle hadn't tried to wake him for his usual early morning basketball match, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mark spotted a change of clean clothes on the rich pine dresser and decided to take a quick shower before heading downstairs. The hot water eased his sore muscles, but washing his hair aggravated the pain around his rib cage. He grimaced at the bruises on his torso from Lutrin's earlier attack. He slipped into a loose shirt, buttoning it up halfway before rolling the sleeves up.

Heading down the stairs, Mark realized that Hardcastle wasn't alone. He could hear at least two other voices coming from the den. As his foot hit the last step, he put names to the voices. He walked down into the den. "Frank, Joe. Joe, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good, palsy." The stocky CIA agent looked up at Mark from the couch with a wry grin, waiting for his response.

"Oh, my…it's gone! You shaved off your moustache!"

"I didn't shave it, the hospital did," Joe growled. "Go on, get it out of your system."

Mark surveyed the other man, wincing at the red dots spread across his chin and neck.

"That bad?"

"No, it's just…Joe, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault, McCormick."

"I should've done something, grabbed the shotgun, something."

Hardcastle shook his head. "It happened too fast to do anything, kiddo."

Frank Harper agreed. "Don't second guess yourself, Mark. Everything worked out. We've got all the bad guys."

Shrugging, Mark reluctantly agreed. "So now what? Are you here for my statement?"

"Naw," Frank said. "I just came to see how you and Milt were doing. And discuss security. Agent Collins will be by for everyone's statement later today."

Mark looked from Frank to Hardcastle and back again. "Why here? I mean, if it was Frank, I might understand it. But I'd think Collins would insist on all of us coming down to FBI headquarters."

"He can insist all he wants. You're under doctor's orders to rest, so Collins will just have to come out here."

"Ju-udge," Mark protested. "We don't want to tick off the FBI."

"Why not?" Frank asked, a twinkle in his warm brown eyes.

"Frank, don't encourage him."

"Seriously, Mark, I'd prefer that anyone who needs to see either of you come here to Gull's-Way. It'll be easier for us to keep you both safe if you stay here."

"What about you, Joe? Want to move in with us?" Mark asked.

"I'm covered, Mark. I have to head to Seattle for another case coming to trial. I don't think I'll have much to worry about from Lutrin and his crew," Joe explained.

Mark sat back on the couch, breathing heavily.

"You hurting, kiddo?"

"Nah, I'm good." Mark grinned wearily at Hardcastle. "Just another day in the life of Tonto and the Lone Ranger."

Hardcastle flinched, stirring uneasily in his chair. He shook off his uneasiness. "Hungry? 'cause you have to take your pills with food."

"I'll eat something, but I don't need any more medicine, Judge."

Hardcastle ignored him. "We about done here, Frank?"

"Pretty much. Call me when Collins gives you a specific time to take your statements. I want to be here. He's trying to cut me out of the loop. I'm not letting it happen." Harper rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "See you later, Mark."

"Frank, you don't have to run off," Mark protested.

"Yeah, I do. I need to get your guards on duty and work out a schedule for the future."

Mark acknowledged the police lieutenant with a nod. When he saw Joe Hayes stand up, he struggled to his own feet. "You leavin' as well, Joe?"

"Afraid so. I've got a lot to do before I can leave the state." Joe gently clapped Mark on his shoulder. "Stay out of trouble, palsy. You're got my number, call me if you need anything. Anything at all, even if it's just to talk. Remember, I've done those undercover assignments myself, I know what it's like."

"Thanks, Joe. Ya know, you're not too bad for a dumb redneck," Mark said with a grin.

"Big praise from a hotshot track lizard."

Once Frank and Joe left, Mark and the Judge headed for the kitchen, arguing about taking the medication. Mark realized that he'd ultimately lose, but had to make the effort.

H&McC

FBI agent William Collins had reluctantly agreed to come to Gull's-Way to record the official statements of both Judge Hardcastle and Mark McCormick. He was equally unhappy about the fact that Joe Hayes had left the Los Angeles area and probably wouldn't be returning until the trial.

Once the statements were taken down by the stenographer accompanying Collins, they waited for her to transcribe them. Collins had more questions. "There is absolutely no chance that we're gonna find your prints anywhere on the shotgun used by Lutrin, McCormick?"

"What? No, I never touched it."

Hardcastle watched from his easy chair, having surrendered his desk to the stenographer, currently typing on her portable electric typewriter.

"You're certain? No doubt at all in your mind?" Collins persisted. "You never touched it even once during your time at the compound?"

"I told you I didn't touch it." Mark turned to the Judge. "What's this all about?"

"Lutrin is claiming that you fired the shotgun that hit Joe and myself in order to get clear of the Attempted Murder of a Federal Officer charge. He also denies knowing anything about the illegal guns found onsite and is totally innocent in the gunrunning charges. He actually has two of his men willing to take the fall for him. If your prints were found anywhere on the shotgun, his lawyer could create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury about who fired the weapon. It wouldn't be a big leap to you lying about everything else if you were wrong about touching the shotgun."

"That's bull! Tomas Lutrin was well aware of everything going on. Nothing and no one came into the compound without his knowledge and approval. Nothing!"

"That's why your testimony and that of the Judge is so crucial. If Lutrin is lying about who fired the gun, he'll be less believable about all the rest. That's why I need you to be absolutely certain of your actions."

Mark nodded. "I get it. Collins, I can guarantee that you won't find my prints on any weapon on the compound. I was very careful not to touch any of them."

"Good. Now while I appreciate the presence of police guards outside this place, I'd prefer putting both of you into protective custody. We can move there now."

Hardcastle looked at McCormick before speaking. "We appreciate the offer, Bill, but no. Neither of us would do well confined to a small room with others watching our every move."

Mark agreed. "Too much like prison."

"We'll be careful. But we're staying here."

Collins frowned. "Hardcastle, be reasonable."

"I am. I'm allowing Frank to station guards outside, aren't I?"

"Believe him. Usually we'd be conducting business as usual," Mark explained. "In fact, why aren't we, Judge?"

"Doctor's orders." Hardcastle's answer was succinct.

"Fine," Collins reluctantly agreed. "But I want some of my men augmenting the security here."

Frank had been silently watching from the couch. He leaned forward. "I'd appreciate the assistance. Gull's-Way is a security nightmare. Between the beach access, the highway and the nearby hills overlooking the estate, it's a logistics nightmare."

"That's why I'd prefer to move them to a more secure location," Collins said.

Frank laughed. "It'll never happen. Been there, tried that."

"Yep, he's even got the t-shirt." Mark chuckled before he turned serious. "Look, I know this makes things difficult for both of you, but let's be honest. The case could take months to come to trial, longer if the defense attorneys decide to delay things with a flurry of motions. I just can't…" He swallowed. "I spent three months with my every move being watched. I just can't deal with that right now. I need to be here, I need to be home."

"It's okay, kiddo, we're not going anywhere." Hardcastle got to his feet, slapping McCormick's knee as he did so. "Looks like Miss Delacroix is finished typing up our statements. Let's sign them and send everyone on their way."

After a grumbling Collins drove off with his transcriptionist, Frank joined Hardcastle and McCormick in the kitchen. He watched as Hardcastle prepared brunch while Mark set the table, pointedly ignoring the pills placed next to a glass of water near his usual seat.

At first reluctant, Frank was soon convinced to have a Spanish omelet and coffee with the two men. The pills continued to sit like an elephant in the room.

Frank and Hardcastle carried most of the conversation, discussing baseball, fishing, and the latest political scandal while McCormick slowly ate the food put in front of him, barely looking up from his plate. Frank looked at his old friend, raising his eyebrows. Hardcastle shrugged and scowled in return.

Finally the dishes were cleared of food and second and third cups of coffee were poured. McCormick's eyes were growing heavy, but he still sat with them at the table.

"Take your pills and go back upstairs." Hardcastle's voice had its usual gruffness, but his blue eyes gave him away.

"Don't wan' 'em," Mark slurred in return.

"And I don't want to drag you back to the hospital, so you just do what you're told. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah." McCormick grabbed the pills off the table and tossed them into his mouth, washing them down with the last of his lukewarm coffee. "But I'm not going back upstairs."

"Fine, have it your way."

"It'll be the first time in over three months." With that, Mark got to his feet and left the room, heading for the pool.

"Mark's not doing well, is he, Milt?"

"He'll be fine. He just needs some rest."

"Neither of us ever did any undercover work, but Joe has. He said to tell you to be patient. Mark's going to have a few problems throwing off the persona he had to assume."

Hardcastle glared at Frank. "Patient? I'm always patient!"

"Of course you are, Milt."

After a moment, Hardcastle spoke. "What kind of problems?"

"He's had to be someone entirely different for 24 hours a day three long months, it's gonna take him time to decompress."

"He's done it before for a lot longer time. He'll make it."

"What are you talking about? Mark's never been undercover for so long before."

"Yeah? I'd say his last time lasted almost two years."

"What are you talking about? He's never…you're talking about his time in prison?"

Hardcastle nodded. "Do you think this McCormick, the Mark McCormick we see every day, would've survived in lockup without assuming another persona?"

"Damn."

"Exactly."


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Despite a long and somewhat loud argument from McCormick, he had been driven back to town the following week for his doctor's appointment. They were followed by their assigned police escort. Despite McCormick's constant survey of their surrounding area, nothing untoward happened.

The drive back from town had been more relaxed, Mark smug about his clean bill of health. "Told you that I was okay."

"You're still below your normal weight," Hardcastle reminded him. "Although the way you eat, you'll be back to full poundage in no time."

As Mark began to respond, he heard a loud crash from behind. Twisting halfway around, he saw a large semi tearing down the road after them, their police guard helplessly spinning across the road to slam against the safety rail. "Judge, we've got company and our babysitters are out of the equation. Better put the pedal to the metal."

A quick glance in his side view mirror confirmed to Hardcastle that they needed to hurry. "Take Millie," he ordered, holding his arm out to allow McCormick access to the weapon.

"Got her." McCormick removed his seat belt, turning around to lean his arm and head out the window. The wind beat on his back as he tried to get a clear shot. "That thing's a tank!"

They continued racing, the semi gaining on them with every curve. The window of the chase trusk was spider-webbed, but holding in place. Mark decided to focus his shots there. "Damn it! I'm almost out of ammo, Judge."

"Then you'd better make your shots count," Hardcastle responded as they came around the last big curve before arriving at Gull's-Way.

Unfortunately, there was a garbage truck slung partway across the road. Yelling to McCormick to hang on, the Judge slung the steering wheel to the right, leaving the pavement of the road. With a yelp, Mark found himself flung into space as the truck door came open. He fought to hang onto the metal frame with one hand, but the momentum was too much and he flew out of the truck into the brush alongside the roadway. He hit the ground hard and could barely catch his breath, caught in paralysis as his eyes took in the fact that the pickup was caught on the edge of the drop-off. The borrowed gun went flying off into the distance.

He heard the semi's brakes squeal. It couldn't avoid the garbage truck completely and slammed into the back of the heavy truck, bouncing toward the GMC. Screaming, Mark forced himself to his feet, running for where the vehicle sat, a target for the out of control chasing semi. "JUUUU-DGGGGE!!"

The truck exploded when the semi hit it, the blast throwing Mark back onto the road. He had a moment of horror before the back of his head hit the pavement and everything went black.

H&McC

"What the hell happened?" Frank Harper flew through the emergency room doors, Bill Collins barely keeping pace with him.

"They were being chased. Your guys were taken out." At Harper's sharp glance, he quickly added, "they've shaken up, but alive."

"And?"

"From what we can tell, Hardcastle almost made it to the estate. Unfortunately there was another vehicle blocking the road. He avoided it, but the semi chasing them didn't. The pickup got hit and exploded on contact."

"What about Hardcastle and McCormick?"

Collins' breath blew out. "It appears from the road burn that McCormick was thrown from the vehicle before it exploded. He's got some first and second degree burns from the explosion on his face and chest area."

"And Milt?" Harper hadn't been made aware of the details, only that there was an accident and that he needed to hurry to the hospital.

"I'm sorry, he never got out of the vehicle."

Harper stopped short, turning to face the FBI agent. "What?"

"If it's any consolation, the blast probably killed him instantly. I doubt he felt anything."

"You're telling me that Milt Hardcastle is dead?"

Collins nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so."

"I…" Harper didn't know what to do. He felt the blow to his heart and had to move to the support of the hospital's wall. A rush of memories overwhelmed him. He had known Milt Hardcastle since he first joined the force, as police officer and lawyer and judge. It seemed impossible that anything could have happened to the big, bluff, burly man who was so much larger than life.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant." Collins stood nearby, looking uncomfortable as he repeated the trite phrase all law enforcement officers used when reporting the death of a friend or relative.

"How is Mark taking it?" Harper asked, regaining his equilibrium.

"He doesn't know."

"What?"

"As far as I know he hasn't regained consciousness."

"Let me tell him. I don't want Mark to hear it from strangers," Harper said, a momentary look of discomfort crossing his face. "I need to see him."

"I'll arrange it. Wait here," Collins ordered.

"No, I'm coming with you."

Shrugging, the agent passed Harper, leading the way to the private room that contained the surviving member of the government's witnesses.

Frank stopped at the doorway, struggling to contain his reaction. His young friend was bare-chested, his face and chest shiny with some sort of burn salve. His eyes were opened, but just a sliver. Frank moved closer to the bed, Collins stepping to one side. "Hey, Mark, you with me?"

There was a hesitation as if McCormick had to process the question. "Y-yeah."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Uh, chased…garbage truck in road…thrown out…Judge?" Mark frowned, his eyes sweeping the room. "Hardcastle!" He tried to rise, only to fall back onto the bed. Tears sparkled from under his lashes. "Frank, where is he?"

Reaching out to gently touch forearm, Frank leaned in close. "He didn't make it, Mark."

"No!!" The moan came from deep within.

"I'm sorry, son."

Mark turned his head away, trying to hide the tears leaking from his red-tinged eyes. He struggled for control.

"I'll leave you alone."

"No! I want…I need to see him."

Harper looked to a frowning Collins. "Mark, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I won't believe it, can't believe it until I see his body. Not after Clarence."2 Mark's voice was becoming stronger, although the devastation on his face was painful to see.

"McCormick." Collins stepped forward. "I have to agree with Lieutenant Harper, it really isn't a good idea. The truck exploded and burned. There wasn't much left of the body to see."

Mark looked stubbornly at both men. "I don't care. I made the mistake of believing him dead once without seeing a body, I won't make that mistake again."

Collins exchanged glances with Harper before nodding. "Fine, I'll see what we can do about arranging something. Let me make a few calls, check with your doctors, okay?"

"'kay." Mark closed his eyes.

With another gentle touch on his friend's arm, Harper spoke. "I'll be back, Mark. Just rest a while." He followed Collins out into the hallway. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"I don't either, but if I've learned nothing else since meeting that young man, it's that when he gets an idea in his mind, nothing will remove it." Collins chuckled. "He's a lot like Judge Hardcastle in that."

Harper smiled sadly. "Yes, he really is."

"I'll contact you as soon as the medical examiner is done with the body."

"Thanks, Bill, I appreciate that." He watched Collins walk away before running his hands over his face, grieving for his old friend. "Damn it, Milt, how could you do this to us."

H&McC

Despite Mark's vehement protests, his doctor refused to allow him to leave the hospital for a trip to the federal morgue. Finally, Harper had had enough and made a proposition.

"Would you trust me to verify it?"

Mark nodded slowly. "Of course I would, Frank, but I can't put you through that."

"Yet it's okay to put yourself through it? Look at you. You can barely stand, you're covered with painful blisters, you're hooked up to an IV. You need to take care of yourself."

"I just…I can't believe it, Frank. I can't really believe he's really gone." He pressed his hand to his eyes, holding back the tears.

"I can't either, Mark. But this isn't Clarence. You're not alone and the powers that be aren't in a conspiracy to deceive you."

"You're right. I know you're right, Frank. It's just hard to believe it, that someone so alive could be gone."

Frank grimaced. "I know."

"If you're really satisfied that this isn't some cruel joke, a misidentification…"

"I only wish it was, Mark."

Nodding his head slowly, Mark sniffed. "Then we remember him like he was, not what those bastards made him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am."

A nurse came into the room, tall and graceful as she checked her patient. "Do you need anything, Mark? The doctor has authorized some painkillers if you need them."

"No, Robin, I'm okay."

Frank closed his hand over Mark's clenched one. "Don't punish yourself."

"What? I don't know what you mean."

"You're hurting. I can see it by the way you're holding yourself."

"I've felt worse. And I've got a lot to do, people to contact. I can't afford to be doped up."

"Like I said, you're not alone. Let us help, let your friends help." Frank spoke in a gentle tone.

"Thank you. I need the Judge's Rolodex, if you could bring that from the estate."

Frank noticed the tremor in Mark's voice, but pretended not to. "Not a problem. Do you have your keys?"

"Yeah, here." He reached into the bedside drawer and dropped them into Frank's waiting hand.

"What else?"

"I need to know when…when the body can be released to a funeral home."

"I'll check with Collins. The FBI currently has custody of him."

"Do you know what funeral home took care of Mrs. Hardcastle?"

"I'm sorry, Mark, I don't. It's probably in his personal papers. I'll check for it if you want."

Mark gave a forced smile and a tense nod of consent. "That would be a big help."

Frank watched as Mark pulled the telephone onto his lap. "Who are you calling?"

"Sarah, first. I don't want her to hear about this on the radio. Hardcase is…was a pretty big deal in this state. His death is bound to be on the news up in San Francisco." He swallowed hard and bit back tears. "Then I guess I'll call the Aunts. They should be able to tell me where Gerald is."

"Mark, if you'd rather, I can do it," Frank offered.

"No. He'd expect me to handle it."

"Okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Try and get some rest."

Mark let out a long, audible breath. "I don't think that's gonna happen for a long time to come, Frank. There's just so much to do."

Frank nodded, patting Mark awkwardly on his shoulder before slipping out the door, leaving his young friend to begin the round of phone calls to notify friends and family of the tragedy.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Mark gathered his pad of notes and the gym bag that held the remnants of his dirty, blood-streaked and burned clothing that he had been wearing the day of the accident. He was released from the hospital after two days with orders to keep his burns and scrapes clean. An admonition to rest was also given, but ignored. "Sorry, doc, there's just too much to do."

Shaking his head in resignation, Dr. Singh said nothing as he handed Mark's release papers to Frank Harper.

"We'll keep an eye on him, doctor," Frank assured the Pakistani physician. "Ready, Mark?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Frank pushed the wheelchair out into the hall, moving toward the elevator. They were escorted by two police officers who had been quietly stationed outside Mark's room.

Mark was oblivious as he considered the calls he had made to so many people. The call to Sarah had been one of the hardest. The older woman insisted on returning to Gull's-Way immediately.

"_Sarah, it's too dangerous. I know you want to come here. God knows I want to see you, but I can't let this animal hurt anyone else that I love."_

"_Mark, I know the dangers. I'm coming on the next bus."_

Unable to convince her not to come, they compromised. Sarah would stay with Frank and Claudia Harper.

Hardcastle's aunts were almost as stubborn about wanting to come to Los Angeles for the funeral and to help Mark. They finally agreed to wait until the Lutrin trial was over and it was safe to visit.

"_I'm sorry that you'll miss the funeral, Aunt May, Aunt Zora, but I can't take the chance that either one of you could be hurt. Just until this is all settled, okay? Please?"_

"_Are you certain that we can't help, Mark? My dear, you'll call us if you need anything?"_

"_I will."_

"We're here. Mark, you okay?"

Mark blinked, realizing that they were at Frank's sedan. "Yeah, I'm okay. I was just…thinking. About all there is to do."

"Speaking of which, we need to discuss the type of graveside service." Frank matter-of-factly helped a shaky Mark get into the passenger seat.

"I don't think I understand."

"Well, he's a former police officer, so he could have a police honor guard. As a former Marine, he could have a military guard." Frank released the wheelchair to a waiting hospital aide, striding around the car to slip behind the steering wheel. He waited until their watchdogs were in their own car before driving away.

"I didn't think about that. The Judge was proud of both. Which do I choose, Frank? Is there any way to do both? Somehow combine them?"

"Let me check on that. We might be able to merge the two."

Mark realized that they weren't heading west to Malibu. "Where are we going, Frank?"

"My place. I'm under orders to take you there. Claudia and Sarah want to see you since they weren't allowed to visit you in the hospital."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Believe me, it's not a good idea to do otherwise."

Mark nodded, returning to his thoughts and memories as he stared blindly out the window. Nothing truly seemed real to him. He moved through his days in a fog of pain medication and disbelief.

"Have you talked with Milt's attorney?" Frank asked.

"Yeah, I did. He can't do anything until the death certificate is issued. Same with the funeral home. They also don't have the…the body. I need to speak to Collins, I was told. I can't schedule any services until I have that settled."

"I'll call him, have him meet us at Gull's-Way tomorrow. That work for you?"

"Thanks."

"I don't understand the delay." Frank swung his head around to look over at Mark. "By the way, that was a nice obituary you wrote up for the newspaper."

Mark gave a grudging nod. "It was tough. Didn't want to leave anything out, but Hardcase has done so much in his life."

"That he has." Frank guided the car into his driveway, parking behind Claudia's sporty compact. Their guard found a parking spot within sight of the house and settled in.

"You ready to be fawned over?" Frank asked as he opened his car door.

"I guess so." Mark placed a restraining hand on Frank's arm. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping. For being there for me."

"We're friends, Mark. You'd do that, you have done the same for me." He made a slight gesture with his right hand. "Do me a favor, willya? Wait until I get around the car before you get out. The ladies waiting inside will kill me if you take a header."

"I'm not an invalid," Mark protested.

"I know that. But you're also out of a hospital bed for the first time in two days. Humor me."

"Fine, I'll wait." He was a little shaky, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.

Frank held the passenger door open, keeping it steady so that Mark could use it to support himself while getting to his feet. The younger man stood for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to fade. He walked with stiff dignity, trying to ignore the man moving closely beside him. As Mark and Frank approached the front door, it was pulled wide open, Claudia's slender figure standing there.

"Oh, Mark," she cried before gathering him into her arms, holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." Mark closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to grieve. Taking a shaky breath, he stepped out of her encircling arms.

"Let's take this inside, folks." Frank ushered them through the doorway.

Mark's square jaw tensed visibly at the sight of Sarah Wilkes motionless in the middle of the living room. The black of her dress heightened the translucence of her skin. He face, normally austere, was now warm with concern. The sight of this beloved face was breaking through his emotional wall and he began trembling.

"Mark, come here."

He came closer, looking down at her intensely. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry."

"What for, dear?"

"I didn't save him. I tried, Sarah, I swear I tried!"

She moved forward the last two steps, taking him into her arms. "I know you tried your best, Mark. You always have." Sarah gently moved them both to a nearby couch, her hand rubbing up and down his arm in comfort.

"I knew Lutrin was dangerous. I shouldn't have agreed to go undercover. It's my fault the Judge is dead."

"How could you have known this would happen? You and Judge Hardcastle were in so many dangerous situations in the past and you didn't refuse to help. Was this one so very different? You know Judge Hardcastle wouldn't blame you for any of it. He truly cared for you. It would hurt him to see you doing this to yourself."

"He'd kick my butt for me," Mark choked out.

"Yes, he would."

A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed him, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. Sarah pulled him closer still until his face was buried against her shoulder, his own shaking. By tacit agreement, the Harpers both turned and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen.

Once the storm had passed, Mark pulled back and collapsed against the back of the couch. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry about the waterworks."

"You're exhausted, you're hurting, and you've lost a good friend. You needed the release. But now that you've gotten all that out of your system, what next?" Sarah watched his expression of grief change to hate.

"Now I go after them."

"Dinner is ready, Mark, Sarah." Claudia stood in the door leading to the dining room.

Mark excused himself. "I need to wash off the hospital. I'll be there in a minute." Once in the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face. He stood over the sink, supporting himself on shaky arms. _I can do this. I __will__ do this._

Dinner was a quiet affair, Mark forcing himself to eat the food lovingly prepared by Claudia and Sarah. He couldn't do the same with conversation, but found himself comforted by the familiar voices surrounding him like a warm blanket. He wasn't alone this time.

"Mark?"

Blinking, he looked across the table at Frank, realizing that this wasn't the first time his name had been called. "Sorry, I was…what did you say?"

"It's okay. I just wondered whether you might prefer to stay here tonight. The couch pulls out."

"I appreciate the offer, really."

"But the answer is no?"

"It isn't safe." Mark bit his lip. "I have an idea that I want to go over with you and Collins. Can you come out to the estate tomorrow?"

Frank nodded dubiously. "I don't suppose you'd like to give me a hint now?" When he didn't get an answer, he grumbled. "I didn't think so."

H&McC

"Okay, McCormick, we're both here. What do you want?" Collins stalked past Mark, heading into the den.

"I'm doing better, thanks for asking," Mark said dryly, exchanging glances with an exasperated Harper. "He been like this all morning?"

"Pretty much." Frank walked to his usual chair, sitting back to watch the show.

"Look, Collins, you don't like me. I get that. Can't say I think much of you either. But we're stuck with each other for the time being."

"Maybe."

"There's no maybe involved. You need me and unfortunately I need you." Mark leaned back against the Judge's large wood desk.

"Granted I may need your testimony, although it's worth is debatable."

Mark felt his fists bunching at his sides. "Because I'm an ex-con?"

"Because you're a thief on some fancy parole, yeah. Of course that's a thing of the past now, I imagine."

Mark shrugged matter-of-factly. "I'm sure it will be. But that's not exactly the point here."

"What is?"

"First, I need to know when the Judge's body is being released. And his lawyers need a death certificate to settle his estate. I don't understand what the delay is, Collins."

"In a hurry to get your inheritance? If there is anything?"

Frank cleared his throat. "Take it easy, Bill. That was out of line."

"It's okay, Frank. He can think whatever he wants. I really don't care. I just want to get all this settled so I can move on."

"You're not going anywhere until this trial is over, McCormick."

"Yeah, I get that as well. You've been wanting to move us to a safe house. Once the estate is settled, you can move me to one. Or…"

"Or what?" The FBI agent's eyebrows raised inquiringly.

Frank rose in one fluid motion. "Mark, no."

"Or we go after the men who killed Hardcastle." Mark ignored the police lieutenant. "I assume you still care about the murder of a former jurist?"

"You know who it is?" Collins asked, an edge to his voice at the dig.

"Specifically, no. But Lutrin's gotta be pissed that the contract wasn't completed. He's gonna be lookin' for an explanation." Mark stopped and inhaled a deep breath. "Some careful police work should uncover the connection."

"Okay, but that's not proving anything concrete."

Frank took an abrupt step toward Mark. "You can't do this. I won't let you."

"It's not your call, Frank."

"Damn it, I've already lost one good friend! I have no intentions of losing another."

"Then you'd better help with the plan, 'cause I am going to do it."

"Would someone like to explain what you two are talking about?"

"Look, we find out who Lutrin sicced on us, tying them together. He's gonna want the job finished. So we make it easier to get to me."

"How? Lutrin has to know we'd wrap you up tight after Hardcastle's death."

"Like before? He's no fool, you're right there, but he has his own mindset. And he knows me, or thinks he does. No con is gonna cooperate with the feds, even if he is their star witness. I might testify for you, but I'd never let you lock me up. That would be too much like prison."

"Plus by now he's bound to have heard about how tight you and Milt were," Frank added. "He's got to wonder if you might be after some payback."

"Yeah, so if I refuse to stay under lock and key, seem to be straining at the leash, it won't really surprise him."

Collins drew his lips in thoughtfully. "Could work."

"Will work, if we plan our moves carefully." Mark looked at the other two men. "So let's get started."


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The men gathered in the Gatehouse, preparing to put Mark's carefully thought out plan into effect. Although Frank Harper was against it, he had insisted on remaining involved. He sat back from the coffee table, watching as Collins and McCormick spoke.

"You'll be under very loose surveillance, McCormick. Too tight and no one will take the bait."

"I understand, Agent Collins. Just make sure your men are ready to move in when it happens." Mark's face was drawn, the shadows under his bloodshot eyes testifying to his lack of sleep.

"We will be. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road."

"Mark, it's not too late to change your mind," Frank said, knowing it was useless.

"It was too late when I agreed to help take Lutrin down." For the first time, Mark looked his friend straight in the eye. "I'm not trying to commit suicide, if that's what you're worrying about, Frank. Hardcase thought this guy was bad news and needed to be taken off the street. He essentially gave his life in the pursuit of that goal, isn't that right, Collins?"

The red-haired agent coughed in what Mark took as assent.

"I'm just gonna make certain that it happens."

"Just don't sacrifice yourself during the process."

Mark tilted his head in a nod and left the room. Frank sighed as he followed.

"Harper."

Frank turned his attention away from the fast disappearing Coyote, Mark's beloved vehicle. "Yes?"

"Would you care to ride with me?"

"Thanks." Frank climbed into the passenger side of the dark blue government-issue sedan.

H&McC

Mark didn't take lightly his visits to any prison or jail, never quite certain that he'd truly be allowed to leave. Now he had something more to add to his fear and nervousness. Anger. He knew he had to channel that anger. He couldn't allow it free reign or Lutrin would win. And that wasn't an option.

He finally made it through security, surviving the less-than-casual pat down as well as condolences from a couple of guards who knew both him and Hardcastle well. With a tight smile, he thanked them. Mark walked into the main visitor center, checking out the other people as he strolled across the floor. Once he determined that he didn't recognize anyone present, he checked out the setup. One side of the room was divided from the other by a long Plexiglas barrier. There were small side dividers that made tiny half-cubicles. Telephone receivers were available for communication between inmate and visitor. Chairs, bare and well-worn, sat ready for use.

Mark spotted Tomas Lutrin at the far end of the room and stalked to where the man waited. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the one responsible for everything that had occurred. Finally, he pulled the chair out and sat down, picking up the handset. He watched as Lutrin did the same.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here, amigo." Lutrin's swarthy features creased in a mocking smile.

"I'm not your friend," Mark snapped.

"So why are you here?"

"To tell you that you made a huge mistake."

Lutrin held out his hands. "In trusting my men? Perhaps so. In trusting you? Most definitely."

Mark rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. "I meant in hiring an incompetent hitman. You'd have been better off killing me and leaving the Judge alive. He plays…played by the rules. I don't."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't admit it. As a former inmate, you know all contacts here are recorded, except for those between an inmate and his attorney."

"Not if you know the right people." Mark made a slight gesture toward one of the guards. He received a slight nod in return. "Besides, I'm not here to get a confession. I'm just delivering a warning. You'd better hope that you're found guilty at your trial. Because I'll be waiting for you when and if you're ever released."

Lutrin leaned toward the glass, exhaling with agitation. "Are you threatening me, amigo?"

"No threat. Fact."

"McCormick!" The shout made people jump. Two men in suits walked across the room with long, purposeful strides.

Mark swiveled quickly, turning his back on Lutrin as he muttered. "Shit." Then loud enough to carry, "Special Agents Collins and Wu. I didn't expect to run into you here."

Lutrin watched the confrontation with interest. Although it was easier to hear using the receivers, the Plexiglas barrier wasn't actually soundproof. With a little effort, combined with the raised voices of the newcomers, Tomas Lutrin would hear almost everything said.

"I thought we had an agreement, McCormick."

"Yeah, we do. I agreed to testify against this piece of trash. I didn't agree to stay locked up like some kind of prisoner."

Collins moved closer to McCormick until he was nose to nose with the younger man. "You'll stay where I tell you to and no lip."

"You can just go…" Mark's face hardened, his blue eyes turning dark and insolent.

"Hey, back off. Both of you." Agent Wu reached out and grabbed Collins' forearm. "This isn't the place and time."

Collins moved away, his jaw tightening. "You're right, this isn't the place to discuss it. We'll continue at the safe house."

"You wanna talk to me, I'll be at Gull's-Way." Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Mark also stepped back.

"It's not safe."

"It's my home. At least for the time being." Mark walked quickly out of the visitors' room, ignoring the curious looks of people he passed.

Once outside, Mark moved to where the Coyote was parked. He slid into the vehicle, only then allowing a cold smile to appear. Starting the engine with a roar, he pulled out onto the street. He relished the taste of freedom as the prison became smaller in his rear view mirror. The play was now in motion. It was up to the feds to monitor Lutrin's visitors and find the contract holder.

H&McC

"Please, Aunt Mae, Aunt Zora, you need to stay in Arkansas for now." Mark grimaced at Frank Harper, the phone receiver caught between his shoulder and his ear as he prepared breakfast. "I know you want to be here for the funeral, but I don't know when that will be. Yes, ma'am, I know that we can't wait forever to bury him, but the Judge hasn't been released yet. I don't know why not. What? Oh, I'm doin' fine, Aunt Mae. I'm not alone, Sarah's here. Well, she's actually staying at the Harpers' house. You remember Frank Harper, don't you? Yes, ma'am, that nice police officer. Why? It might be a little dangerous here. No, I'm okay. Really. Yes, ma'am, I'll let you know as soon as I have some kind of date. I promise. I'll take care. Goodbye, Aunt Mae. Goodbye, Aunt Zora." He hung up the phone and collapsed back against the counter. "They wanted to fly out here and help protect me."

"They've really taken to you, Mark. Naturally they're worried." Frank pulled the toast out of the broiler and slathered butter on them.

"Yeah, and I appreciate that, but I can't let them come out here. Not until this is all taken care of."

"How are things going? Collins barely tells me anything and I hardly see you."

"So far, nothing concrete. But I do think that I've got someone watching me." Mark ladled the eggs onto two plates he had removed from the warming oven, fat sausage patties sitting on them. "There's fresh coffee in the pot."

"Thanks, I'll get us a couple of cups." Frank joined Mark at the table, breathing the smell of the food in deeply. "Looks great."

"I hope so. I'm hungry."

Frank waited until they had both cleaned their plates and were sipping on a second cup of coffee before speaking. "You seem better. You look better, too."

"I'm feeling better."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mark, but why?" Frank held the thick mug in both hands.

"I don't know. I just feel…it's not as bad this time. Maybe because I'm not alone this time." Mark's blue eyes twinkled. "Among other things."

"Feel like sharing those 'other things'?"

"Not yet. But at the rate things are going, it won't be long before you understand exactly what I'm talking about."

"You're getting as bad as Milt was."

A grin on his face, Mark ducked his head. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a complaint."

Frank chuckled. "I'm not sure either. So you said that you think you might be under surveillance? I'm assuming you don't mean the Bureau."

"Not unless they drive a yellow and black Charger."

"Kind of obvious a vehicle, isn't it?" Frank commented.

"Maybe, but it's also fast enough to disappear into traffic if anyone spots them. I need to make it easier for them to get at me."

"I don't like you being so alone out here." Frank stood to look outside the window. "I know you're just off the PCH, but even with that, you're alone here. Everyone is surrounded by acres of land. I don't know if they'd even hear a firefight if it happened."

It was Mark's turn to laugh. "Oh, they'd hear it. They'd just ignore it. The sound of gunfire at Gull's-Way is too common for the neighbors to even react to."

"I think I should move in here."

Mark, in the process of clearing the table off, paused. "No."

"It makes sense that someone would be here with you."

"No, Frank. I'm not putting anyone else in danger."

"That's the nature of the business."

Mark slammed the dishwasher door shut. "I said no! If I'm wrong…I won't lose another friend. I won't!"

A heavy silence spread uncomfortably through the kitchen. Finally Mark looked up at the other man and shrugged. "Besides, you're still keeping an eye on Collins for me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good. I need someone on my side watching him. I don't trust Special Agent William Collins as far as I can throw him. But if you're there, I'll feel a lot safer."

"You're a con artist."

"Yeah, maybe. Is it working?"

"Fine. I'll keep an eye on our friend from the FBI and the other on you."

"Whatever makes you happy, Frank."

"What would make me happy is if everything was like it was before we got involved with these people."

"Yeah, so would I, Frank. So would I."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

When things began to break, it happened faster than anyone could have imagined. Mark had gone to the Federal Courthouse to meet with the District Attorney to go over his testimony for the upcoming trial. He had taken the opportunity to speak with Collins about Lutrin's visitors. They met in a small break room, away from curious eyes.

"So who is it?" Mark asked softly.

"So far the only visitor has been his attorney. We can't listen in on those." Collins was aggravated at the lack of information.

"Somebody's been following me, so he's definitely made some sort of contact. It has to be through his attorney. Can't you get a warrant to tap his phones?"

"Tricky, we can't accidentally record a client's conversation."

Mark frowned, thinking. "And if he's smart, the hitman is a client. But that's not right." He struggled to remember the law Hardcastle was always spouting at him. "If he, the lawyer, is a go-between, that makes him an accomplice. That negates the relationship, right?"

"I'm a cop, not a lawyer, but I think that's the gist of it. We've got a man following this guy. Hopefully all the contacts won't be on the phone."

"I guess it all depends on just how stupid this guy is."

Collins laughed. "Yeah, that about covers it. So now what?"

"Now I try and play them into making a move."

"How?"

With a cheeky grin, Mark got to his feet and sauntered out the door. "Just watch and learn, Collins, watch and learn. You chose me as your weapon. You should've known that I wasn't the type to let someone else use me."

"That's not an answer. McCormick!"

H&McC

On the ride back to Gull's-Way, Mark carefully worked the gas pedal, making it appear that the car was having engine problems. "Sorry, girl, but this is important." He continued making the vehicle jerk off and on before arriving at the spot he determined to be perfect for an ambush. He pulled the car off the road and slightly behind an abandoned gas station just a mile from the entrance to Gull's-Way. The area was empty of viewers, the only sign of civilization a series of condominiums currently being built down the road. The workers had called it a day and to all intent and purposes, Mark was alone.

He really didn't think anything would happen, not this soon, but it could set the scene for a future situation. He climbed out of the Coyote, moving to the front to lift the hood. He leaned down, his eyes focused on the powerful engine currently crackling with heat.

A farm truck pulled up behind him. The driver leaned out. "You need some help, mister?"

"Uh, no, I'm good." The last thing Mark wanted was to get a Good Samaritan hurt. "You don't have to worry…" his voice trailed off as he saw the overall-covered man climbing out of the battered truck. "I'm okay, really."

"I couldn't feel right just leavin' you here like this. Let me take a look under there. I'm a dab hand with an engine, if I say so myself."

"I think it's just some water in the tank," Mark said quickly.

"Horrible thing to happen with a car as purty as this, Mr. McCormick." The man raised up, a gun suddenly appearing in his hand.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Mark lightly banged his forehead on the Coyote's hood.

"Can't disagree with ya, boy. Now how about you head on back into that brush behind the station. No need for anyone to witness this and force me to kill 'em. After all, I'm only gettin' paid for you."

"Yeah, wouldn't want that, would we?" Mark said, dragging his heels and hoping his police guards weren't too far away. "Wouldn't be good for business, giving it away for free."

"You're right smart-mouthed, ain't ya, boy?" The faux farmer pushed him in the middle of his back.

Mark swung about, grabbing the hitman's gun hand and twisting it up toward the sky. The fight was vicious and quiet except for the grunts of the two men as they struggled for control of the weapon. Mark managed to slip his foot behind his assailant's knee and they tumbled to the ground. The broken concrete began to coat both men in dust, make their grips harder to maintain.

Taking a chance, Mark took a handful of the debris and threw as hard as he could into the other man's face. One tiny pebble hit the hitman's eye and he momentarily faltered, giving Mark a chance to bear in.

He pulled his head down until his chin touched his chest, then flung it back up, managing to hit his opponent square in the nose. Splattered with blood, the man yelled in pain, automatically grabbing his nose with both hands and leaving the gun free for Mark. He quickly pulled away from the angry man, scrambling to his feet and putting the gun to use.

"Don't move!"

Panting heavily, the hitman glared up at Mark. "You gonna shoot me, boy?"

"Only if I have to. On your stomach, put your hands on the back of your head." When the man slowly complied, Mark began to breath easier. He remembered something he had seen done by some of the cops he and the Judge had worked with. "Interlace your fingers and cross your ankles. Don't move, got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

Mark didn't have long to wait for an obvious government-issued vehicle to arrive. Agent Collins climbed out of the passenger side, staring wordlessly, intense astonishment touching his pale face.

"Hey, wanna help me out here?" Mark called, feeling exhaustion trembling along his legs.

"Right. David, take over for McCormick. Seems like you've done all the work for us."

"Can't say that was my original plan, Collins, but whatever works."

Collins, his green eyes checking the physical condition of the younger man, nodded. "Call me Bill."

Shock shot through Mark. "Th-thanks, Bill. My name is Mark."

"I think our friend here might have something important to say." Wu had handcuffed the hitman. "We might not have just Lutrin in our net. Seems McCormick called it. Lutrin's attorney was the go-between and Ralph here is willing to spill everything to avoid the death penalty for killing a judge."

Collins and McCormick exchanged weary but satisfied smiles.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Mark leaned back in his chair, relaxing and soaking up the sun. He heard the car engine and followed the sound's progress up the driveway. Just as it arrived at the fountain the engine was shut off. A few seconds later, he heard the slamming of three car doors. Mark kept his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of people moving across the lawn to the pool. It took a little longer than he would've thought, but he still didn't look.

"Kinda trusting, aren't you, Mark?" Collins commented drily.

"We've got all the bad guys, everyone has either confessed or made a deal or both. And you've determined that it's safe enough to bring Hardcastle here." Mark opened his eyes at last, an irresistibly devastating grin spreading across his face. "Welcome home, Judge."

Hardcastle's body stiffened in shock. "You knew? How? Frank, you told him?"

Throwing up his hands, Frank denied all knowledge. "Not me. I only found out myself two hours ago. You've been with me the whole time. How could I tell him without you knowing?"

"Somebody had to have told you, McCormick. Who?"

Mark took in the Judge's walking cast and the cane and rose fluidly from the chair. "Sit down before you fall down. You two, too." He giggled at the sound of the two words.

Hardcastle dropped awkwardly onto the seat. "You didn't answer the question."

"Actually, Bill told me."

"I did not!" Collins protested.

Hardcastle frowned at the use of first names, wondering when the two men had gotten so friendly.

Mark's grin seemed permanently attached to his face. "Not in so many words, no. But when you kept dragging your heels whenever I mentioned needing the release of the Judge's body as well as getting a death certificate to his lawyers, I smelled a rat."

"Think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Hardcastle growled.

"Yep," Mark replied smugly.

Grumbling a bit more while Frank and Bill watched, Hardcastle finally mumbled, "You did good, McCormick."

Mark's blue eyes softened as he gazed at his friend. "Thanks, Judge." He cleared his throat. "So who's gonna call the Aunts and Sarah and tell them that this was all a lie? It ain't gonna be me. I've already done my bit."

Hardcastle and Harper both froze in a stunned tableau. Mark smiled at Bill Collins and leaned back once again, his eyes closing.

March 2008

Aired episode "There Goes the Neighborhood".

Aired episode "The Homecoming".


End file.
